


Shut Up and Listen

by lisainthesky



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Barebacking, Dom Sam Wilson, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Gags, Light Bondage, M/M, Spanking, Spitroasting, Sub Bucky Barnes, fuckboy!Bucky, they had to gag him or he'd be too intolerable to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:24:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9477476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisainthesky/pseuds/lisainthesky
Summary: Fuckboys are only good for one thing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so this is 10000000% [unclesteeb's](http://unclesteeb.tumblr.com/) fault for creating [fuckboy!Bucky](https://fckboybucky.tumblr.com/post/156113060168/hey-buckbuck-do-u-like-when-sammy-and-stevie-boss#notes) in the first place. I'm dying, i can't believe i wrote this, i hate it. i don't recognize any part of my life anymore. i'm sorry

Bucky’s in the apartment when Sam and Steve get back from the grocery store. The record player is on, warbling out “Chattanooga Choo Choo” and Bucky is singing along, doing all the parts, loud enough for them to hear. Steve stiffens slightly at the sound, a brief look of hope crossing his face. Sam sighs.

“Fuckboys can like big band, Steve,” he says, and thinks of the awful white boys who’ve tried to tell him about the history of jazz while conveniently forgetting all about Harlem. “In fact, it makes for a worse fuckboy.”

“Sam, come on,” Steve says, a little pleading.

“Just open the door, Rogers. He’s already in the apartment, there’s nothing we can do about it now. I want to put this ice cream away.”

If Sam’s being honest, he also wishes this would mean Bucky was...normal again. He’s never really sure what to measure “normal” by - the Avengers aren’t a good gauge, Steve sure as fuck ain’t normal, and there’s no way in hell Bucky will ever be like he was before the Soldier, or even before the war.

Still, it’s a nice thought, to be able to be around him for more than ten minutes at a time without wanting to strangle him; to talk to him without having to see that look on Steve’s face like he’s having a bad dream but also feels bad for thinking that because he doesn’t want to hate Bucky’s coping methods.

It’s fine; Sam can exercise enough constraint and control of the situation for both of them. Usually. It would also be nice if Bucky was all talk, because at least then Sam could have fucked him once, laughed him out of the house, and never gone back. Instead Bucky actually is as good in bed as he says. And he’s not, unfortunately, just talking big about his dick either. If only he would stop running his idiot fuckboy mouth for five minutes.

Steve opens the door - it’s unlocked - just as the record cuts off. Bucky must have heard them talking. They find him on the couch, splayed out like he wasn’t just singing aloud and probably dancing around, and Sam already knows he was right. Their least favorite fuckboy is back. He’s a mess, of course: stains on his nasty white tank, his shoes are crusty and gross, his sweatpants are fraying at the cuffs. But his hair is wet, like he just got out of their shower and put the same dirty clothes on again. There is definitely Cheetoh dust on the couch.

“Steve,” Bucky says when they come in. He shifts a little on the couch, spreading his legs further like he wasn’t being obvious enough. His voice drops a little lower when he looks at Sam. “Sammy.”

Sam gives Steve a pointed look, just a raised eyebrow to say you deal with him and goes to the kitchen to put the groceries away. They both follow him in anyway, of course.

“Where you guys been all day?”

“Running errands,” Steve says. “Bucky, how did you get in?”

“Oh, you know, your boy has his ways,” Bucky says dismissively. He hops up on the counter, and his holey shoes leave little scuff marks on the cupboard. Sam clenches his teeth. “You guys got any doritos?”

“No,” Sam says. “Get out of my way and get your nasty sweatpants off the counter.” 

He shoves Bucky, hard, although it doesn’t do anything. Bucky laughs and jumps dramatically off, then slides an arm around Sam. 

“Just wanted to get close to me, huh, baby?”

Sam prays for patience. He’s gotten as physical with Bucky now as he wants to, punching him won’t do any good.

“Barnes, get your hands off me or I swear to god I'll make you.”

Bucky laughs, and Sam closes his eyes, bracing for it.

“Yeah, and then what?”

“And then I'll beat your pasty ass so hard you can't sit down for a week,” Sam snaps, pulling away.

Bucky doesn't follow, but he does laugh again. “Come on baby, you--”

He doesn't finish because Steve, leaning against the opposite counter with his arms crossed says, “That’s a good idea, Sam.”

Sam pauses with the freezer open, sliding his eyes to Steve. Steve’s giving him a sly look, just a little smirk.

“Wait, what?” Bucky says.

Sam shuts the freezer and turns slowly, surveying the groceries so he doesn’t have to look at Bucky. If he laughs at the undoubtedly dumb expression on his face it'll ruin the moment. 

Steve crosses the kitchen and traps Bucky against the counter. “You’ve been pretty bad, Buck.” His voice has dropped to what Sam secretly calls his bedroom register. It’s lower, deeper, but more growly than his Captain America voice. “Sneaking in, using our stuff without even asking. Don't think I didn't notice the Cheetoh dust on the couch.”

“I...I just wanted to see you, babydoll.” Bucky makes a valiant effort at staying in control, dropping pet names and everything. Sam finally looks at them, and instead of being the usual puddle of goo at Bucky’s feet, Steve is actually using his height to his advantage, steel in his eyes.

“Should have called first,” Steve says. He molds his body to Bucky’s and lowers his lips to Bucky’s throat. Bucky sighs.

“I just missed you, baby, both of you. Couldn't wait, just had to--”

Sam steps forward and threads his fingers into Bucky’s damp hair. He pulls sharply, tilting Bucky’s head back so Steve has better access to his neck. Bucky gasps.

“Shut up,” Sam says. Bucky looks at him, shock flitting across his face. Sam can see him about to start talking again, so he presses his mouth to Bucky’s, hard. Bucky groans softly and Sam uses it to push his mouth open, nip at Bucky’s lips roughly.

Bucky is shifting under them and Sam realizes it’s because Steve has his hands pinned to the counter. He tightens his hand in Bucky’s hair and bites his lip, hard enough that Bucky whines. 

Steve pulls back first and Sam stops too, pulling back to look at Bucky. His cheeks are getting pink and his lips are red and wet and there’s a bite mark bruise blossoming low on his neck. 

“Damn, sugar,” Bucky pants. “I didn’t know you’d be in the mood, but yeah, you can get on this anytime, you know that.”

Sam suddenly wants very badly to put his dick down Bucky’s throat. He looks at Steve.

“Bed,” he says. Steve nods once in agreement, and then spins Bucky around, trapping both arms behind his back and frog marches him out of the kitchen. Sam double checks that no perishables have been left out - he refuses to let Bucky’s dick be the reason their milk goes off - and then follows them. 

Steve and Bucky are standing next to the bed, making out. Steve has one hand wrapped around Bucky’s flesh wrist, the other pulling his hair. Bucky’s metal hand is shoved down the back of Steve’s jeans. He’s grinding on Steve, legs spread around his thigh, groaning softly. Sam takes his shoes off and sits down on the bed. 

Steve steps back and turns Bucky around again, then pushes him towards the bed. He doesn’t let go of Bucky’s wrist until he’s arranged across Sam’s lap with his ass in the air, feet hanging off the edge.

“Gonna spank me?” Bucky asks, turning his head to look at Sam.

“Shut up,” Sam says again. Buck laughs and wiggles a little, deliberately grinding his cock against Sam’s thigh. Steve is working on his shoes, yanking them and his socks off with no finesse. The nasty sweats are next. He’s not wearing underwear. Sam rolls his eyes.

Bucky stops rubbing his dick against Sam’s jeans without his sweats there to stop some of the friction. Sam takes a moment to be glad he used their shower. Steve settles on the bed across from Sam, Bucky’s ass between them like a table. 

“What do you think?” He asks Sam. “Should we make him count?”

Bucky starts to reach back towards his own ass with one hand. “You wanna see? I can hold--”

Sam catches his wrist. “Stop talking. Gimme your belt, Steve.”

Steve grins and immediately moves to take his belt off. Bucky looks between them. “Aw, but Sammy that means I won’t be able to touch you, baby. You don’t want that, do you, Stevie?”

Steve ignores him and hands Sam his belt. 

“Shut him up,” Sam adds.

“Should I use my dick?”

Bucky starts to say yes, but Sam talks over him. “No, he’ll like that too much.” He looks around the room and his eyes fall on Bucky’s nasty, stained tank. He plucks at it. “Use this.”

Steve doesn’t even bother to pull it over Bucky’s head, instead ripping it straight down the back and at the worn straps. Bucky yelps out a protest, and Steve takes advantage of his open mouth to shove the wadded up cloth in. Bucky continues to mumble around it, but now Sam doesn’t have to actually listen to him acting like an asshole.

“Good,” Sam says, and pulls Bucky’s other arm out from below his head. Bucky faceplants into the mattress, turning his head to look at Sam. His brows are furrowed and he makes another little noise of protest. 

Sam pauses with Bucky’s forearms pressed together behind his back, Steve’s hands holding them there. 

“You wanted to get some,” he reminds Bucky. Bucky whines and Sam takes the gag out, holding it between two fingers. Bucky swallows once. “You know what you did. Gonna be good and take your punishment?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I promise.”

“See if we can teach you some manners,” Steve mutters and leans in closer so Bucky can see him. “What’s your signal, Buck?”

Bucky licks his lips, blinking slowly. It’s been awhile since they’ve seen him this vulnerable, gotten him to step out of the obnoxious persona he’s fallen into somehow. He’s dropping fast. Sam’s still gonna put his gag back in because even when he’s getting held down and fucked Bucky’s dirty talk is annoying as hell, but it’s good to see. 

“Left hand, three taps,” he says.

“Good,” Sam says. “Now shut the fuck up.” He stuffs the gag back into Bucky’s mouth and binds his wrists together with Steve’s belt. Bucky is perfectly still through it, eyes shut and breathing deeply through his nose. Steve pets his hair for a moment, then sits back and grins at Sam.

“After you.” 

Sam starts off easy, because Steve can always hit harder than he can so it’s sort of like being good cop. He lays light little smacks all across Bucky’s upper thighs and his ass, taking his time. There’s no pattern to the blows, but he’s also not hitting him too hard. 

Bucky doesn’t move at first, but when Sam starts to move back across the skin he’s already hit, he twitches, clenching a little. His breath hitches when Sam starts to go a little harder. Sam lays a particularly hard slap low on his ass, right where it meets his thigh, close to his crack, and Bucky grunts, squeezing his eyes shut. Sam sees a tear slip out and he grins. 

He sits back, running his hands lightly over Bucky’s thighs and ass. The skin is getting pink, and at the light touch he shivers gently, and a small whimper gets out around the gag.

“You done?” Steve asks. He’s hard in his jeans, dirty fucker (not that Sam isn’t but), and ignoring it completely, eyes dark and sharp and completely focused on Sam and Bucky.

“For now,” Sam says, pulling his hands back. “Go ahead.”

Steve doesn’t move for long enough that Bucky’s eyes open and his eyebrows start to furrow. Then Steve moves so fast Sam swears he can hear air whistle around his hand, and he almost winces in sympathy when it lands on Bucky’s already red ass. Bucky shouts around his gag, jerking forward.

“Don’t move,” Sam says, moving a hand to his hair again and resting it there. “And don’t you dare get yourself off.”

Bucky gives him such a distressed look that Sam almost laughs. He smiles sweetly and watches Bucky’s eyes start to water when Steve hits him again, and again, and third time in rapid succession. Sam can tell he’s holding back, but Bucky’s ass is sporting big red handprints, and his thighs are shaking finely.

Steve doesn’t let up, landing loud, rough smacks all over Bucky’s ass and thighs. He moves methodically, working his way down. Bucky still jerks occasionally like he wants to rub himself off on Sam’s thigh, but he whimpers and stops quickly. Sam isn’t sure if it’s because of the order or because the denim is rough, but it doesn’t matter. 

By the time Steve stops, Bucky’s thighs are really shaking. He’s whimpering, tears leaking down his face, flexing both hands. His skin is red, really red, and when Sam lays a hand on his ass, it’s warm. He combs his fingers through Bucky’s hair once to get his attention, smiling when Bucky looks at him through watery blue eyes.

“Feeling good?” Bucky nods, and Sam squeezes his ass to get another whine out of him. “Yeah, you’re fine, aren’t you.”

Bucky shakes his head, wiggling a little in Sam’s lap, whimpering. Sam keeps squeezing his ass, his thighs, pressing into the heated flesh, occasionally spanking it lightly. Every squeeze and slap gets a whine until Bucky’s worked his way up to near constant keening, eyes squeezed shut again and still leaking, arms straining at the belt holding them. Sam doesn’t let up until Bucky’s whole body is shaking, his face wet.

He lets go of Bucky’s hair and smooths it down, shushing him, then pulls the gag out. Bucky heaves in a breath, sniffles, and blinks up at Sam. He’s quiet except for his gasping and small sniffles. 

“I think you should fuck him,” Steve says to Sam. Sam tilts his head. Bucky’s breath quickens, but he doesn’t speak or move. Sam pets his hair. 

“Think he’s learned his lesson?”

Steve shrugs. “I think he’s earned it. He’s been so quiet.” Bucky whimpers again, just a little. Steve reaches out and runs both hands from his shoulders to his knees, and Bucky keens. Steve slides both arms around his waist and lifts Bucky into his lap, shifting so they can watch Sam undress.

“Think he can suck your dick at the same time?” Sam asks, reaching into the nightstand for lube. 

Steve hums thoughtfully. One hand drifts down to Bucky’s dick and strokes him slowly. “I know he _can._ You want him to? Think he’s earned that?”

Sam shrugs. “Donno. I wanna watch him choke on it though.”

Steve grins and Bucky moans, hips jerking into Steve’s hand. Steve shushes him and leans back to release his hands, then guides him onto all fours in the middle of the bed. Sam kneels behind him while Steve gets up and strips, admiring their work on his ass. 

“Oh, baby, so red. Does it hurt?” He slicks up his fingers while he talks and drops the lube next to him. Bucky nods and gives a choked whine when Sam spreads his ass with one hand and presses a finger in.

“Oh - please - god, Sam,” he gasps, head drooping.

Sam slaps his ass and pumps his finger slowly, circling it. “I didn’t say you could talk.”

Bucky shuts his mouth and whimpers. Steve climbs back onto the bed at his head, sliding a hand into his hair. He lifts Bucky’s head and strokes his jaw with the other hand. Bucky’s eyes stay trained on Steve’s dick, his mouth dropping open. Steve smiles.

“So needy,” he mutters. 

Sam presses a second finger into Bucky’s hole and Bucky twitches, clenches up around them and pushes back. It’s too much too fast - Sam can see his eyes watering again but he doesn’t look away from Steve’s cock, inches away from his mouth.

“Think we can get him to cry some more?” Sam asks.

“Easy,” Steve says, and gives Bucky the head of his dick. Bucky moans around it, eyes falling shut. He starts to suck, licking sloppily, panting around what little he’s got. Sam spreads his fingers slowly and Bucky starts to wriggle his hips again, trying to take them deeper.

“Do it, he’s ready,” Steve says, voice rough. Sam pumps his fingers slowly a few times and Steve lets Bucky have a little more of his dick. Bucky moans like he’s dying for it. 

“I like watching him squirm,” Sam says. 

“Looks better doing it on your dick,” Steve grunts. Sam laughs and pulls his fingers out to slick himself up.

The sad little noise Bucky makes pitches up immediately when Sam presses the head of his cock to his hole instead. Sam starts to push in, groaning at how tight Bucky is still, and Bucky pulls off of Steve’s dick to pant. Steve lets him for only a moment, then pulls his head back, pushes his dick further into Bucky’s mouth. 

Sam goes slow but doesn’t stop moving until he’s buried completely in Bucky’s ass. The heat and tightness is almost overwhelming, and Sam just breathes for a moment, watching Steve pull Bucky further onto his dick, the stretch of Bucky’s lips, the little shake in his shoulders. 

Steve looks up at Sam, a toothy grin on his face, and leans in to kiss him. The hand not curled into Bucky’s hair comes up to cradle the back of Sam’s head gently. His lips are soft, unhurried, almost lazy. It’s sweet, a counterpoint to the way they’re holding Bucky between them. Sam smiles against Steve’s mouth, and rolls his hips. Below them, Bucky moans and is cut off abruptly, choking as Steve’s cock slips into his throat. 

Both of them lean back to look at him, then at each other. Sam starts to thrust first, rolling his hips, fingers digging into Bucky’s hips. Steve winds both hands into Bucky’s hair and holds him down on his dick. Every move from Sam shoves Bucky just far enough forward that he chokes. He clenches up around Sam and manages to make a little whimpering noise.

Sam picks up his pace, leaning forward to look at the way Bucky’s lips stretch around Steve's cock. It's beautiful, and obscene, and he's drooling, eyes wide and watery, trained on Steve's face. Sam smiles and reaches up to pull Bucky's head back. Steve pulls out and Bucky gasps, draws in a shuddering breath, and whimpers when Sam grinds into him.

“You like this?” Sam asks. “Like taking both of us like this?”

Bucky nods against Sam’s hold on his hair. “Yes,” he says, voice scratchy.

“You wanna come?” Steve says.

“Yes,” Bucky cries. “Oh, please, yes.”

Sam leans back again and doesn’t even wait for Steve to get his dick back into Bucky’s mouth before he starts moving again. Bucky gasps and cries out and doesn’t stop, every sharp thrust wrenching another euphoric sob from him. 

“You can wait,” Steve says to him. He rubs his thumb under Bucky’s eye, swiping at the tears. “You’re not getting off until both of us do, got it?”

Bucky sobs, but he nods. Sam slows down long enough for Steve to get his dick back into Bucky’s mouth, quieting him slightly, then speeds up again. He’s close from waiting and watching Bucky cry and choke and the hot look Steve gives him every time their eyes meet. He wonders distantly about how bad it is how much he likes to make supersoldiers cry, and makes a note to talk to Nat about it. She’ll tell him it’s okay.

Sam bites Bucky’s shoulder when he comes, leaning over to shove into him roughly a few more times. Bucky is whimpering around Steve’s cock, and only gets louder when Steve pulls out and starts jerking himself off. Sam leans back, one hand in Bucky’s hair tipping his head back. Bucky’s mouth stays open and he moans hotly when the first stripe of come lands across his lips and chin before Steve pushes back into Bucky’s waiting mouth and lets him swallow the rest. Steve groans and pets his hair, hips jerking, and finally pulls back.

Bucky whines and shifts restlessly, begging without words. Sam sits back and brings Bucky with him, sitting him in his lap. He’s softening up and he can feel come starting to drip down his cock, but Bucky has been so good. Steve presses up against Bucky’s front and starts to stroke him. Sam reaches around to help, fingers still a little slick from the lube, and it doesn’t take long before Bucky is spilling over their fists with a sharp cry, head thrown back against Sam’s shoulder, his whole body tense.

He’s less quiet while he comes down from it, sniffling and hiccuping. Sam and Steve shush him gently, just holding him. At some point, Steve slips off the bed and wets a towel in the bathroom. He cleans up Bucky’s face and chest, wipes Sam’s hand. When he’s done he pulls Bucky into his lap, chest to chest, so Sam can wipe his ass and thighs, and himself. 

They keep Bucky there long after he’s quieted, because he’s clingy and needy when he’s like this and they both want to take care of him. Eventually he shifts, pulling his nose out of Steve’s neck and looking at Sam.

“Can I stay here tonight?” His voice is small, a little rough, sleepy. His eyes are red and puffy and he’s almost pouting. Sam doesn’t even care that the little asshole will be up in the morning eating dry cereal on the couch and making a mess with his nasty boots on the coffee table.

“Yeah, baby, you can sleep here,” he says and gives him a kiss. Bucky sighs into his mouth. Sam pulls back and kisses Steve too, cupping his jaw, then lays down.

Steve lays back and tucks Bucky in between them. “You can even use my shampoo in the morning,” he says. “And I won’t punish you.”

Bucky smiles and sighs and pushes against Sam until he molds himself to Bucky’s back. He gropes until he finds Steve’s hand and twines their fingers together, and falls asleep knowing he’s going to wake up too hot and covered in idiot. Could be worse.


End file.
